Separated at Birth Separated at Birth
The Nation and Alice in Wonderland were born within days of each other. In this seditious reading, they rejoin the dance.
Mar 23, 2015 / Books & the Arts / Ariel Dorfman
No Place for Self-Pity, No Room for Fear No Place for Self-Pity, No Room for Fear
In times of dread, artists must never choose to remain silent.
Mar 23, 2015 / Feature / Toni Morrison
The Future of a Failed State The Future of a Failed State
Nations like Haiti don’t “fail” because of their people, but because they’ve been relentlessly exploited by the more “developed” world.
Mar 23, 2015 / Books & the Arts / Amy Wilentz
Can Women and Men Live Together Again? Can Women and Men Live Together Again?
I hope we might meet as rebels together—not against one another, but against a social order that condemns so many of us to meaningless or degrading work in return for a glimp...
Mar 23, 2015 / Books & the Arts / Barbara Ehrenreich
Cuba Libre Cuba Libre
Covering the island has been a central concern for The Nation since the beginning—producing scoops, aiding diplomacy, and pushing for a change in policy.
Mar 23, 2015 / Books & the Arts / Peter Kornbluh
1875-1885: Custer’s Last Stand and the Power of Tammany Hall 1875-1885: Custer’s Last Stand and the Power of Tammany Hall
Just as soon as one "boss" is evicted, another rises to take his place.
Mar 23, 2015 / Feature / The Nation
The Reporter Who Warned Us Not to Invade Vietnam 10 Years Before the Gulf of Tonkin The Reporter Who Warned Us Not to Invade Vietnam 10 Years Before the Gulf of Tonkin
A farsighted policy might do more to stem the Communist tide than sending a few more plane-loads of napalm.
Mar 23, 2015 / Feature / Bernard Fall and Frances FitzGerald
Varick Street Varick Street
March 15, 1947 At night the factories struggle awake, wretched uneasy buildings veined with pipes attempt their work. Trying to breathe the elongated nostrils haired with spikes give off such stenches, too. And I shall sell you sell you sell you of course, my dear, and you’ll sell me. On certain floors certain wonders. Pale dirty light, some captured iceberg being prevented from melting. See the mechanical moons, sick, being made to wax and wane at somebody’s instigation. And I shall sell you sell you sell you of course, my dear, and you’ll sell me. Lights music of love work on. The presses print calendars I suppose, the moons make medicine or confectionary. Our bed shrinks from the soot and the hapless odors hold us close. And I shall sell you sell you sell you of course, my dear, and you’ll sell me. This article is part of The Nation’s 150th Anniversary Special Issue. Download a free PDF of the issue, with articles by James Baldwin, Barbara Ehrenreich, Toni Morrison, Howard Zinn and many more, here. Elizabeth Bishop (1911–1979), the poet laureate of the United States from 1949 to 1950, published two poems in The Nation between 1945 and 1947, when Randall Jarrell was interim literary editor. She was a longtime friend of the more frequent Nation contributor Marianne Moore, who in a 1946 review in these pages described Bishop as “spectacular in being unspectacular.”
Mar 23, 2015 / Books & the Arts / Elizabeth Bishop
Game Not Over Game Not Over
Despite the Gamergate backlash, a new generation of activists is working to end the racial, sexual and gender stereotypes promoted by the video-game industry.
Mar 23, 2015 / Books & the Arts / Helen Lewis
Frederick Law Olmsted Surveys a City Burned to the Ground Frederick Law Olmsted Surveys a City Burned to the Ground
Chicago's struggle to recover from the Great Fire is engaging the study of its best and most conservative minds.
Mar 23, 2015 / Books & the Arts / Frederick Law Olmsted